I’ve played with the numbers from every angle, and I’m still not sure how this happened. This truth is that it almost didn’t.

Let’s face it, SSDI (Social Security Disability Insurance) doesn’t pay a whole lot, especially when you didn’t contribute for very long and you never earned a big salary. Especially when you live in an expensive city with high rents. SNAP (food stamps) almost covers my groceries each month. Almost. Fuel assistance helps with the utilities, but doesn’t cover them completely. Health insurance (after I pay the premiums) covers most of my costs, but I still spend a whole lot more. I am so grateful for all of these, but after I added them all up, I was still far short of what I needed.

After all, I still have to pay for those health costs and utilities, car expenses including insurance, household stuff like dish soap and toilet paper, and so much more. I spend very little on luxuries like gifts, clothes, or a meal out with friends, but there’s still the occasional purchase.

I’m super lucky. Last year my parents bought me a new laptop. Back while I was still working I bought a super warm coat and a low-end-but-nice sofa. I have savings from back when I worked. But those savings aren’t enough for the next several decades so I want to avoid touching them if I can.

I’ve been watching my bank balances. Down and up, up and down. I did some consulting work when I could. I sold random stuff I had around the house that I didn’t need or want anymore. I sold some of my knitting. I did a bit more consulting. Some months looked really good. Others looked terrible. I hated the uncertainty.

Back in the days when I worked, I had a steady paycheck. Those days are gone. I want to work now, but that income would still be unpredictable. And right now, it’s completely ad hoc. Still, when I looked at the numbers (yes, I’m a numbers geek) in December, I could tell I was close. Was it possible? Could I actually BREAK EVEN this year?

I was nervous when I went over my 2015 accounts the other day. I blinked. That couldn’t be right. I went over it all again. It was true. I came out ahead! Yipee!!

I’m very lucky. I know not everyone can do this. I know I couldn’t do it last year or the year before or the year before that. But it I did this year, and I’m grateful for that.

So how did this happen? Well, I had several consulting clients. I did some work that I didn’t particularly enjoy, but I did it for the money. This including knitting some things I didn’t enjoy knitting, helping someone set up a WordPress blog (I really hate doing the back-end work, but others do too, so they’ll pay for it,) and listing things on ebay, amazon, and craigslist (I hate dealing with that shit) that I’d have happily given away if I didn’t need the money. I did some other work that I did enjoy, like knitting awesome projects and consulting on things I enjoy. But it was all worth it.

Of course, that alone didn’t do it. This is where the luck comes in.

First, I had savings from back when I worked. I had invested those savings. And those investments earned interest and dividends. Now, this wasn’t a huge amount of money. And it’s not money I’ll spend yet – all that interest gets immediately reinvested. Still, it helped me get a lot closer to breaking even.

With all of the benefits, the work I did, and the investments, I was so close to breaking even. This is where more luck comes in. My parents gave me a large birthday check earlier in the year. Then they gave me a large Chanukah check last month. And those put me over the top. Thanks Mom and Dad!

And let’s be honest, being able to work at all feels pretty damn lucky right about now. Sure, I did a lot of research and put in a ton of effort to improve my health to this point. But we all know that sometimes all of that effort and research doesn’t help. I’m glad that this time it did.

So benefits + work + investment income + gifts = coming out ahead! Without any one of those, I wouldn’t have made it.

There are no guarantees in life. I have no idea if I’ll break even in 2016. I’m going to try to start a business and maybe it will work and maybe it won’t. What I do know is that I somehow made the money work out in 2015.

The other day I wrote about the freedom of a wheelchair. I wrote about how using wheelchairs allowed me to travel last weekend when I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to, and they also let me get out of the hotel room and have a little bit of fun. But last weekend wasn’t the first time I used a wheelchair, and I doubt it will be the last. So why don’t I have one of my own?

For a long time I didn’t need a wheelchair. It was rare that I had trouble walking, and when I did, I could usually manage to “power through.” As the pain and disability got worse, I occasionally had a friend push me in a chair at the mall, or use a chair in an airport. It wasn’t often, but I did it. But I told myself those were aberrations. I was feeling stubborn. I didn’t want to need a wheelchair.

More recently, as I found myself telling people more often that “I can’t leave my apartment” or “I can’t walk” I realized that the real limitation wasn’t my ability to walk, but my inability to find an alternative. Due to joint pain and instability in my wrists, I can’t use a cane, crutches, or a walker. I can’t use my hands to lean on anything. So when the pain in my feet or knees is especially bad, I’m stuck. I spend days at a time sitting on the couch or lying in bed, and hobbling to the bathroom or kitchen only when I truly have to. I can’t leave my apartment because it involves too much walking. The stubbornness has dissolved as I have been become a prisoner in my own home. But what if I could leave without walking?

Most of my friends think I don’t have a wheelchair because I don’t need one. Some others think it’s because I refuse to use one. They’re both wrong. The reason is sadly simple: money. I can’t afford it.

Let’s say I get a low-end electric wheelchair for $1500. That’s a lot of money, especially for something I wouldn’t use every day, but I think it would be worth it and I could manage to pay for it. Unfortunately, that’s not the only cost. There are many accessories I’m sure I’ll need, even though I don’t know yet what they are (if you do know, please list them in the comments! I’m trying to get an accurate idea, in case I end up doing this at some point.) And I’m guessing there would be repairs and maintenance or the chair.

Now how will get that chair around? I need a van. Let’s forget for a moment about the extra cost for gas on a minivan (I drive a compact car now.) And let’s ignore the extra money for repairs, since I’d have to get a much older car, with many more miles, than what I have now. Let’s just look at the cost of the van itself. After trading in my current car, I’d probably spend about $20,000 for a used wheelchair van.

So that’s $21,500. That’s a lot of money! And as if that weren’t enough, I need to be able to get to the van. Right now, on the bad days, I can’t walk down the long hall from my apartment to the front of my building, or down the walkway from the front door to the sidewalk. And then my car could be parked a couple blocks away. I should really live in an accessible apartment. Those are incredibly hard to find in the Boston area. These are old buildings. The last time I lived in a place that was built post-1930 was 4 apartments and a dozen years ago when I lived on the west coast. In fact, I’ve only ever lived in 2 accessible apartments. 1 was that apartment on the west coast and the other was a place that I lived in for 1 semester in college. That’s it. Everyplace else has had stairs. Newer buildings are accessible. Newer building are also expensive. Not only would I be paying moving costs, but my rent would go through the roof. This is just not an option. More likely, I would need to move to another inaccessible apartment that involved less walking to get to my car. It would need to have parking, though, so my car would be closer. Chances are, I’d be paying my same rent or more. Probably more.

Still, let’s say I could move with just slightly higher rent, plus moving costs, plus the van, and the wheelchair itself. We’re talking approximately $24,000 for a wheelchair that would be incredibly helpful about 10 times per year. (Each time varies between a few hours or a couple weeks.) This just doesn’t make sense.

So for those who’ve wondered why I don’t have a wheelchair, even though there are obviously days that it would be incredibly helpful, that’s why. It’s about the money. Plain and simple. It sucks, but it’s the reality.

Have you had to give up using a wheelchair or other mobility aide because of cost? What’s your experience with wheelchair use? Are my numbers off in any way? Please comment and share your story!

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Copyright 2019.

Disclaimer

I am not a doctor or any other sort of medical professional. I am writing my own thoughts, feelings and opinions here. Please consult your own medical professional for advice on your own particular situation. You are responsible for your own choices.